


Insufferable

by LokianaWinchester



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: Getting Together, Kissing, M/M, Oblivious Illya, Oblivious Napoleon, Post canon, They're both oblivious, but u know... spies in love, they're not dumb actually, they're so blind and dumb i love them
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-09
Updated: 2018-08-09
Packaged: 2019-06-24 08:56:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15627225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LokianaWinchester/pseuds/LokianaWinchester
Summary: Prompt: a kiss to shut the other up. It turned out to have a bit more plot than that, so have some pining, oblivious spies.





	Insufferable

**Author's Note:**

  * For [el3anorrigby](https://archiveofourown.org/users/el3anorrigby/gifts).



Napoleon was insufferable. There was nothing special about this; Illya had known that he was since the car chase and they had not even met at that point. It was just some kind of energy or aura Napoleon seemed to exude.

The man was absolutely terrible, nobody Illya would have stuck around if he had any other choice. If he was being real it would not even have come to them meeting. Illya would have kept his distance to Napoleon, mainly because the man was insufferable. But also because he was too attractive for his own good and Illya was wise enough not to get involved with people like that.

Only he was not.

He liked to think he was, but if that really was the case, then he would have stayed away from Napoleon from the very beginning. There were ways to avoid each other even if you were working together; Illya had done so before. But Napoleon pulled him in, his charming ways, sharp grin and glinting eyes working against Illya’s defenses relentlessly. At this point, after Rome, after Istanbul, Napoleon had the power to completely disarm Illya with only one look. Napoleon had influenced him from the very beginning, but Illya thought himself so great, so untouchable by emotions and temptations that he only realized how tight Napoleon’s grip on him was when it was too late.

Illya frowned. They were on their third mission together now and it did not look like they were going to stop working together anytime soon. Waverly had even sent them on holidays together. As unnerving Napoleon had been even in his free time – especially in his free time – Illya was thankful for any higher power that made Napoleon leave for most of the day, either strolling through town doing god knows what or going to the beach.

At least this way he did not have to talk to Napoleon, or look at him, or even think about him.

It was not that Illya did not like thinking about Napoleon, it was just that when he did, his thoughts took some really bad turns and he ended up getting hurt when nothing was even happening. Just stressing about Napoleon ever finding out about the effect he had on Illya was enough to send him reeling for hours. Wistfully Illya thought back to that peaceful period, that had lasted six days until they wound up where they were now; in a ratty hotel room in Ireland.

It was nothing like Rome. There were no suites, no fluffy beds, no luxury whatsoever. There was only one bed, double sized and since only one of them had checked in, they had to share it. Waverly had been very clear that Gaby was to check in two days before them and then one of them should get another room. If the people they were supposed to take out were watching out for these records, Waverly wanted the three of them to have the advantage of looking like two people.

So Illya was stuck in this room. With Napoleon. Sharing a bed.

He had tried to opt for sleeping on the floor but Napoleon had fired a round of argumentations at him that reached from “The floor is cold, just sleep in the bed with me, and also we only have one cover.” to “Is your masculinity truly so fragile that you can’t stand sleeping in one bed with another man?”

The latter had been where Illya gave in. Nonetheless his first night was spent in sleepless contemplation of what his life had come to. Not only was Illya sharing a bed with another man, but it was a man he was terribly attracted to and maybe even slightly in love with.

Admitting that he was in love with Napoleon had been worse than how he felt when he realized he was not exclusively attracted to women.

As a man in his mid-twenties, working for the KGB, realizing that he was bisexual was not exactly an easy thing to stomach, but it could not compare to the struggle he had gone through with this stubborn, smug, terrible, beautiful, insufferable American. Illya had been so set on disliking every detail about Napoleon that he did not even realise that the end result of those details, the entire Napoleon, was not so bad and in fact more enticing than he could ever have anticipated.

After two more nights of near sleeplessness next to the American, Illya finally managed to get some sleep the fourth night of their stay. He still woke up before Napoleon.

Illya lay awake, watching the sunlight behind the muddy green curtains slowly intensify, until the whole room had gone from darkness to a soft green shimmer. Eventually Napoleon moved next to him.

It was time for him to wake up and Illya was grateful that he did so himself. He closed his eyes for a moment, not quite drifting off, but he enjoyed the comfortable darkness behind his eyelids. Suddenly something hit his chest.

Illya’s eyes snapped wide open and realized with a start that it was Napoleon’s arm. The American was coming closer and closer; Illya’s heartbeat sped up.

He was just about to move and shove Napoleon off of him, when he heard him mumble something.

“Good morning, sweetie.”

Illya froze. Either Napoleon was still sleeping and had a very vivid dream, or he had gone completely mad.

Then Napoleon pressed a kiss to Illya’s jaw. That was the limit, Illya could not take any more, soddenly he regained control over his movements and elbowed Napoleon firmly into the chest.

A pained moan was the response. While Illya hated any harm that came to Napoleon, he did not feel particularly bad about this. He had forgotten the third and most likely possibility; that Napoleon was mocking him. One way or another Napoleon had found out about his feelings and now Illya would have to pay. But if Napoleon thought he would not fight back, he was very, very wrong. Before Illya could say anything, Napoleon jerked back.

“Fuck. Fuck, Peril. I’m sorry, I don’t know what… I didn’t mean to, I thought…”

Illya had never heard Napoleon at a loss for words like this. It did not sound like he was really mocking him but with Napoleon he could never be sure. He remained silent and decided to see where the American was going with this.

“I don’t know what I thought, it was just so warm and cozy and I haven’t had somebody in bed with me for ages…” Napoleon threw his head back into the pillow and groaned, burying his face in his hands.

“Fuck. I didn’t even know who I was talking to, I just felt somebody there and it didn’t compute that it’s you, I’m sorry, Peril.”

Illya saw him looking through between his fingers. He raised an eyebrow and Napoleon turned away.

“I hate how you look through me.”

Illya blinked. He had no idea what Napoleon was talking about. By now it was fairly clear to him that the Cowboy had thought Illya was someone he had brought back to his room. But now Illya was onto something more, so he needed to know more. He stayed silent and promptly Napoleon continued.

“I’m still not sure what I thought exactly, but I wanted to do this for weeks now and I don’t think that helped my inhibitions. I’m so fucking sorry, I know you don’t feel this way and I understand if you, like wanna get another room or go share one with Gaby or let me sleep on the floor… I’m sorry I don’t have more self-control, I know you are with personal space and I’m pretty sure you still have feelings for Gaby so I totally get it if you throw me out, but please don’t mess up my face… I –”

Illya moved with a start, grabbing Napoleon by both shoulders and before he could have another rational thought that could tell him that this was a bad idea, he kissed Napoleon.

The Cowboy let out a startled gasp, then immediately brought one hand up to Illya’s neck, the other settled between his shoulder blades. Illya rolled over so he was laying halfway on top of Napoleon and moved his one hand to cup Napoleon’s jaw. The latter let out another moan and opened his lips. Illya responded eagerly.

This was about the only way Napoleon could have surprised him with his explanation and still it was so purely _Napoleon_ that Illya was almost surprised he had not seen it coming. He was so unbelievably smug about his looks even in this situations; the incessant talking was driving Illya insane, but now he might have found a way to counter that, because beneath him, Napoleon was strangely pliant.

When they broke apart, Illya watched Napoleon’s expression carefully. He was well aware that there was a possibility this was still a trick. He knew how convincing Napoleon could be.

But when the Cowboy opened his eyes, glinting already with the hint of a grin that spread on his lips only a second later, Illya was sure this was genuine. But then Napoleon opened his mouth.

“Well, well… who knew?” It was too smug, so insufferable, so unbearably Napoleon, that Illya simply let his head fall forward into the pillow over Napoleon’s shoulder.

A gentle laugh worked its way through his Cowboy’s chest and Illya allowed himself to smile into the pillow.

This was going to be interesting.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Kudos and comments are immensely appreciated, as always <3


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